


Keep Them Safe

by spideywriting (catch_you_later)



Series: whumptober 2019 [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: BAMF Peter Parker, Bleeding Out, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Identity Reveal, School Shootings, Stab Wound, do not copy to another site, no.23, no.8, whumptober2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 22:22:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20955851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catch_you_later/pseuds/spideywriting
Summary: A school shooter invades Midtown High, and Peter has to step up to save the day - even at the risk of exposing his identity.





	Keep Them Safe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shameful_Indulgence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shameful_Indulgence/gifts).

> Un-betaed.
> 
> This is written for the lovely Shameful_Indulgence! Thank you for your amazing comments and support, I really hope this lives up to your expectations!

The click of a gun that’s being loaded is a very specific sound.

Mechanical, quick, but _very_ distinctive.

With how often Peter’s been in the vicinity of a loaded (and a firing) gun, it’s also one he can identify instantly.

Although he never would have guessed that he would hear it at school.

* * *

“Looking good, Ms. Moon!”

“More power on those punches, Mr. Scarino!”

“Ms. Jones, you do know that lifting a book is not considered proper exercise?”

“Scientia potentia est, Couch Wilson.”

“…right. Well, try to keep up with the rest.”

It’s third period and they’re doing one of Captain America’s Fitness Challenges again. This times it consists of push-ups and boxing – which MJ has interpreted as lifting a book up and down while reading it. (To be fair, the book she’s holding _does_ look kinda heavy.)

Peter is at one of the punching bags, hitting it as weakly as he can.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

Ned is next to him, theorizing about _The_ _Rise of the Skywalker_.

“—you know how he never talked with Chewie when Rey was on the island with him? So some people are saying that it was because he was not a proper force ghost yet and Rey could only see him because her connection to the Force was so strong! That would mean—"

Peter’s been listening and dropping comments here and there for the better part of the gym class, but in reality, his attention has been somewhat disrupted by these weird shivers he’d been experiencing on-and-off for the past ten minutes. They were a bit like his spidey-sense, but there hadn’t been any perceivable dangers and therefore no explanations for them.

Regardless, he’d still gotten his most inconspicuous web-shooters (which Flash had immediately made fun about) on a “bathroom break”.

Just in case.

Even now, he couldn’t stop trying to detect the reason for his unease, senses stretching to their broadest capacity.

The things happening around his immediate vicinity are blurring, thinning out, while the sounds from further away become louder, clearer, like he is right _there_.

He can hear Ms. Warren lecturing about prisms, a Spanish listening comprehension tape rolling in one class and students talking, whispering, shouting, answering questions. And even further, there is the general hubbub of New York; cars humming, heels tapping, taxis honking, people walking, phones ringing, _boots shuffling_, a dog barking, _glass breaking_, water running, _a gun clicking_.

_BAM!_

Peter snaps back to present, the punching bag that he had been hitting lying on the other side of the gymnasium and a lot of startled, wide eyes on him. Even Couch Wilson has startled out of his usual impassive, slightly bored expression, and is staring at him in shock.

(He can see Flash’s expression from the corner of his eye and if the situation wasn’t so dire, he would’ve laughed his ass off at the dumbstruck, almost frightened look on his face.)

“U-um, sorry about the punching bag, maybe - maybe the wiring was faulty?” He stammers weakly. His classmates continue to stare at him with a wide kaleidoscope of emotions ranging from shock to disbelief.

“A-anyway! Listen! I really need all of you to come here _right now_ and do what I tell you!” He straightens from his awkward, apologetic hunch and channels the easy confidence of Spider-Man to cover the slight terrified tremble in his voice – _the shuffling was coming closer_.

To his surprise, the whole class (plus Coach Wilson) starts moving right away.

_Closer_.

They huddle close to him, looking at him with creeping tendrils of dread shadowing their gazes.

“So. I guess I can’t really dance around this; there’s a person with a gun moving in the hallway and they’re headed this way. _Don’t_ ask me how I know, I just do, okay? Now, as quick and silent as you can, go hide behind the stand or in the equipment storage.” When they only stare at him, he whisper-yells, “Go!”, and the students scatter.

Coach Wilson and Ned lag behind.

“Peter what about y—”

“I can’t leave a student behind on my watch, not even one throwing _punching bags_—"

“Don’t worry about me, _run_!” he pushes them away, and they start running—

_The shooter is nearly at the doors already_—

In one heart-stopping moment, Peter realizes.

_They won’t make it._

_Not if he doesn’t do something._

Lightning-fast he thrusts out his hands, shooting webs on the door frames, the lock and the doors themselves, hoping to buy his classmates some time to hide properly.

(Behind him, there are multiple audible gasps as the connection between the web shooters and the rumored Stark internship is made. He can hear somebody - Flash, if he's hearing correctly - say, "no fucking way", and has to hide the unholy, gleeful smile that forms on his lips.)

The emergency patch-work done, he shoots a string of webbing to the ceiling, and flings himself over to the doors to string even more webbing over the doors, trying to wove them together until they are impossible to open.

On the other side of the doors, something runs into the doors, _hard_.

His webs strain against the slam, some of them snapping already.

Peter can’t believe his eyes.

This is the solution that had tripped up _GiAnt-Man_. How could the webs be severing? Does the shooter have a goddamn battering ram or something?

He can hear the multitude of badly muffled whimpers from the stands, and rushes into action, bracing himself for the next slam, which _dents_ the door and almost throws him off. But he can’t stop, can’t do anything else except take it, hit after hit after hit, hoping that someone from another class will notice the ruckus and called the police.

The ramming stops.

Peter freezes against the door, listening suspiciously.

_They couldn’t have stopped that easily. Right?_

_Wait, what if they go after the other classes?_

_Oh no—_

Something behind the doors _bleeps_, and Peter dives away just as a _fucking_ _grenade_ blows the doors open.

Someone screams, but Peter is too occupied with dodging the rapid-fire bullet rain to check if anyone’s hurt.

Through the smoke steps a vaguely familiar boy holding a rifle. He glances around and immediately locks eyes with Peter.

A dreadful, nauseating weight sinks into his stomach as he recognizes him.

_He’s a senior here_.

A person he’s seen on the hallways, walking and talking like a normal teenager, laughing with his friends and complaining about teachers, is now watching him avidly, almost _predatorily_, with a manic gleam in his eyes, clearly ready to bury him in copper-lead alloy.

He feels a frisson of terror run down his spine.

He needs to stop this quickly.

A string of webbing whips out, tearing the gun away from the boy’s hand and hurling it to the other side of the gym hall, disarming the shooter just like he does muggers and bank robbers on his patrols.

What he doesn’t expect, however, is for the other boy to come charging at him with _superhuman speed_.

_Oh shit, he’s enhance—_

Peter’s vision whites out and his breath halts in his chest as the boy’s fist cracks his ribs.

It’s only his quick reflexes and his spidey-sense screeching at him to _MOVE_ that saves him from being knocked out cold.

From there on it’s _duck-dive-punch-flip-counter-punch-evade-trip-jump_, both of them trading blows at faster and faster pace, both landing hits and taking them.

Shoulder, cheekbone, forearm, ribs again.

However, as the fight drags on, it becomes increasingly clear that Peter has better endurance (_huh. I guess all the training sessions with Black Widow payed off_), and it seems that the other boy realizes this as well.

His fighting becomes more and more desperate, his mouth twisting into a snarling grimace, eyes blazing with mindless rage.

And then, just as Peter is about to land a finishing blow to knock the boy unconscious, he sees a flash of metal cutting through the air, feels his body trying to twist in a futile effort to evade the knife that sinks deep between his already cracked ribs.

_PAIN_.

Flaming cold, paralyzing _pain_.

Peter coughs, and warm liquid splashes onto the other boy’s hand.

His head is already becoming fuzzy, his vision darkening.

He slumps on the knife, stumbling towards the other boy, accidentally pushing the knife even deeper.

_Ouch_.

_Mr. Stark is going to kill me_, he thinks faintly.

Everything seems so far away, getting further by each blink, each sluggish heartbeat.

“_NOOOOOOOOOO_!”

The scream slashes through the air, dripping with agony and horror.

For Peter, it feels like the time stops for a second.

_No._

_I need to protect them._

He takes the hand holding the knife into a bone-crushing grip, holding the other boy (struggling, the enraged snarl still warping his features) in place as he one-handedly selects the taser web option and fires multiple webs at his feet, simultaneously stunning him and gluing him to the floor.

When he feels the hand holding the knife still buried in his gut slackening, he stops and takes a couple of steps back before falling to the floor.

He blinks, and suddenly Ned is there.

He can see his mouth moving, but his ears are filled with an odd hum that makes it impossible to understand what he’s saying.

He blinks, and there are the rest of his classmates, surrounding him.

The faces are really blurry at this point, but he can see tear tracks on at least Ned's and, uh, MJ’s? and – weirdly enough – on Flash’s face.

_I should feel scared_, he thinks. _They certainly are._

But somehow, the only emotion he can feel is relief.

_They’re safe._

_“—ey, Underoos! Don’t— stay a—, you hea—”_

_“I’m s—”_

_“—gonna have—surgery—”_

_“—dropping — Get me the —"_

_“Don’t—”_

_“Stay w—, pleas— I couldn’t—"_

_“Peter, hon — back.”_

_“I swear if – don’t wake up – I’m going to –"_

The outside world presses against him, insistent.

The rustling of scratchy sheets and the tapping of someone’s fingers on the screen of a phone.

The underlying scent of antiseptic.

The deep ache centered around his middle.

A tired sigh.

“I know you’re awake, kid.”

Peter grunts and tentatively opens his eyes.

He finds that the lights in the room are already dimmed, sparing his oversensitive eyes from the glare of fluorescent lights.

“’s ev’r’one ‘kay?” is the first thing that bursts out of his dry mouth.

Mr. Stark snorts, sounding almost bitter.

“You get stabbed, almost bleed out and _that’s_ what you say first? You amaze me, kid.” His words sound derisive, almost mocking, but Peter can hear the worry and upset wallowing beneath the surface.

“’S okay, M’s’r Stark.”

“It’s _not_ okay, kid.”

Peter decides to let it go, for now.

“How’s ev’ryone?”

Mr. Stark’s voice softens.

“They’re okay, don’t worry about it, Peter. A bit shaken, but okay. Just concentrate on getting better, they’ll be fine. Oh, and I’ve got a voluntarily filled NDA from each of them so your secrets safe too.”

Peter sighs relievedly at this, and lets all the worries float away from his mind.

“Just sleep, kid. Sweet dreams.”

He melts against the bed, slowly lulled into sleep by the gentle hand stroking his hair lovingly.

**Author's Note:**

> Please drop me a kudo and/or a comment if you liked this, I would appreciate that very much! <3


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